I'll Be There (Always) (A Pen is Mightier than a Sword)
by xKeshire
Summary: He couldn't believe his eyes. After over 20 years, he had given up, but blatantly in view on his forearm is something Reborn thought he would never see. All it took was a purple fish and 'Tuna' to be written on his arm, to turn Reborn's life upside down. An tumblr soulmate AU where when you write on your skin with a pen/pencil/marker/etc., it will show up on your soulmate.
1. Chapter 1

Find a job you love. Of course, that's the ideal - the rote saying constantly repeated throughout life, yet the application continues to evade so many people. But Reborn is definitely not one of these people. He is madly in love with his job - perhaps a bit too much. The idiot Colonnello says his sadism shows time to time (quite often). Yet, despite the. . .unconventional career path of his, there is hardly anything that can rival the feel of cool cold metal on his calloused hands, hardened from years as a hitman, the thrill of feeling the solid recoil of his gun, the impulse rippling through his sturdy arms, and the acrid smell of gunpowder.

It is a pity he had to wash off the smoky scent, but the sweat he worked up from his slightly more difficult than average mission was beginning to cool on his back, making him uncomfortably clammy. He now revels in the residual steam of the shower, toweling himself off in front of his bathroom sink. Reborn makes a move to clothe himself but not before the offhanded sight of the bareness of his skin halts his movements. Save for a few short black lines in a row drawn by himself on his bicep, Reborn is markless, like a baby fresh out of the womb.

The bareness shouldn't disturb him anymore. He has spent nearly 20 years looking at his skin, void of the tell-tale markings made by The One - his soulmate. The absence of such markings isn't uncommon, typically due to the age gap of soulmates, but a difference of 18 years is pushing it and Reborn has given up all hope. Not that he really had any to begin with. Sure, when he was younger, the purely olive tanned skin unnerved him and the pitying looks he received from nosy onlookers were downright annoying. Now, older. wiser, and he married to his job. However, this doesn't prevent his heart from clenching every time, during the lazy aftermath of one of his flings, when his partner skims gentle hands over his body and looks saddingly at his empty skin, when their own is often covered in the handwriting of their soulmate.

Reborn offhandedly traces nimble fingers over his own marks, counting 5, and rolls over them like piano keys. Quickly he clothes himself having felt the beginning of goosebumps pickling on the surface of his skin. Slipping on a t-shirt and pants, he hides the skin that have never felt true love.

As he slips into his unnecessarily large bed, he consoles himself with a single thought: his job is the only soulmate he needs.

"A healthy boy, ma'am. And I come bearing beautiful news."

A doctor hands over a blanket swaddled bundle to the bed-ridden brunette of who the resemblance is uncanny. Both the child and mother are blessed with fluffy tawny hair, fair skin, and a small button-nosed face, but the eyes couldn't be more alike yet different. The child has dark chocolate eyes like his mother, but if one were to spend more time gazing into them, he or she would find themselves inexplicably drawn to the conclusion of vibrant orange eyes.

With expert fingers, the doctor parts the blanket, exposing soft baby skin, and murmurs softly with a voice tinged with happiness ,"The first soulmate markings."

The brunette can hardly retain her glee, a smile brimming from ear to ear and endearing eyes look upon her child's special marks.

Five simple black lines on the bicep.


	2. Chapter 2

At the age of three, Tsuna has a loose grasp on what love is.

Love can make people happy: like Tsuna's stuffed lion Natsu that he carries around everywhere. Or when he wears his favorite orange hoodie. Like when his mother tends so carefully to the their backyard garden. Or when his mom smiles so magnificently on the occasion when a certain someone calls the house.

But love also can make people sad: when Tsuna lost Natsu on the subway last month. Or when his mother doesn't receive a certain call for a while.

Today Mama is especially sad. She hasn't received a call in a long while, and her beautiful smile doesn't seem too honest, which isn't good because Tsuna likes seeing Mama happy.

Just earlier this morning when they were doing their daily grocery shopping, Tsuna noticed Mama wasn't listening to him talk about his journey with Natsu to space. Instead she was nodding absentmindedly while staring at something off into the distance. It wasn't too hard for Tsuna to realize his mother was looking at the couples on the street.

Tsuna likes to look at the couples on the street too. Sometimes if he promises Mama he will be a good and well-behaved boy, Mama will let him sit on the benches just outside the shop. Often the couples will look and smile at him, and Tsuna will smile right back because they look so beautiful. One day, he hopes he will be like them with his own soulmate. Whether the couples are smiling or not, just being near each other seems to make them lite up. Not literally. Not like the star nightlight he has in is room, but the way the couples act and their general aura makes them stand out more than one of them would on their own.

But Mama wasn't looking at the couples like how Tsuna does with admiration and adoration. She looked really sad and if not a bit jealous. This especially shocked Tsuna because he's never seen his mother jealous. Not even when Tsuna eats the last pudding, Mama would always look endearingly. So today Tsuna has a plan to turn her frown upside down!

Every night when Mama puts Tsuna to bed, she likes to roll up his sleeve to reveal his soulmate marks. With gentle fingers, she taps each one, muttering under her breath the number. Right now the lines are up to ten and span longer than Tsuna's hand. Afterwards, Mama always kisses each one and whispers to Tsuna, that he is loved - not only by her, but there is someone out in the big world who will love him just as much as she does.

Mama told Tsuna all about soulmates and how if he were to write on himself, it would also appear on his soulmate. Tsuna has never done it himself, but Mama does it every day and sometimes she lets Tsuna help. She writes long paragraphs, more often a sentence or a word or two. But always she ends it with a heart and her name, then she helps Tsuna write his own name, but Tsuna is really bad at writing the squiggly 'S' so Mama just had him abbreviate his signature to Tuna.

Tsuna often wonders who his mother's soulmate - who gets to see his mother's special writing. One time he worked up the guts to ask her, but after seeing her smile falter and hearing her voice crack, Tsuna never bothered to ask again, which is why his mission today is even more imperative to make his Mama happy.

"Mama?"

"Yes Tsu-kun?" his mother responds somewhere in the kitchen.

Tsuna hesitantly asks, "Will you help me write something on my arm?" He peers from the living room to his mother at the kitchen counter.

The way his mother lites up, eyes crinkling in amusement, and smile finally reaching her eyes makes Tsuna forget his initial hesitancy and he concludes: he made the right decision.

Tsuna's mother runs around the house, in search for a box of permanent markers and some baby powder. Together with his mother, Tsuna sits in the middle of the living room floor, table pushed off to the side to make room for their impromptu art station.

Mama rifles through the markers talking mainly to herself.

"Orange? No, orange won't show well on skin. Neither will yellow. . .black? But that's not a pretty color. . ."

In the box, Tsuna spots a pretty purple marker and plucks it out with his chubby little fingers.

"Can I use this one Mama?" Tsuna asks, pulling her out of her reverie.

"Of course Tsu-kun. What do you plan on writing?"

It doesn't take long for Tsuna to decide. In fact he already thought about what would be the most recognizable mark since his mother always talks about the importance of first impressions.

"Fishy!" Tsuna shouts enthusiastically, arms shooting up above his head.

His mom raises a hand to hide her mouth as she chuckles demurely in response to Tsuna's antics. She makes a move to help Tsuna, but he easily evades her grasp.

Tsuna puffs his chest out with his hands curled at his hips. "No need for help! I've been practicing!"

"Of course! I'm sorry, big boy!" Mama replies, hands up in defense. She tries to keep a straight face but the ends of her lips curl upwards despite herself.

Satisfied and assured he will be uninterrupted, Tsuna shifts next to Mama's side and holds the purple marker in a clenched fist. To the best of his ability, on his right arm, Tsuna draws out the oval body with his shaky hand and then a triangular tail and a small dot for the eye. He pauses for a moment to admire his work, and he raises his arm for his mother to look at. After receiving an approving nod, Tsuna moves right below his fish and one letter at a time, writes out 'Tuna'.

No sooner when he finishes the last letters he is attacked by his mother as she rains a torrent of kisses all over his body. Overcome with giggles, Tsuna can barely wheeze out the words to stop his mother.

"Ma . . .ma. My . . .Fish . . . smudge."

Like a switch was flicked, Tsuna's mother pulls away, face flushed from the recent excitement.

"Sorry, Tsu-kun! Your mama is just excited to see her baby boy grow up!"

"Mooomm!"

"Sorry, sorry. Let me just apply the baby powder so the drawing will last longer!"

As she applies the white powder, Tsuna admires his work on his arm. It is a miracle to think that someone else will see this.

Tsuna smiles to himself and crosses all of his fingers and toes in hope that his drawing will give his soulmate as much happiness as their marks do for him.

Now just to wait for the response.

 **A/N: So a new story. . .I'm going to be using this to get back into the swing of writing. Besides, what better way to celebrate to getting into college.**

 **Anyways, this is on my AO3 as well under xKeshire. Comment and Reviews are always appreciated. 3**


	3. Chapter 3 (Reborn's Perspective)

Six.

Six days of leisurely coffee stops, uninterrupted strolls around Venice, and completed books piling up on his coffee table.

Six days of nothing.

Nothing.

Reborn was conflicted. On this seventh day, should he be thanking whatever greater being granted him this peace for some down time, or should he be on edge, treading softly, because a well-concealed bomb was eagerly ticking down to explode and disrupt the peace?

At the moment, Reborn was leaning towards the second option. He was wary of sevens, always has and always will be. Sevens were double-edged blades. The fact that the majority of people lauded seven as being representative of good fortune and power made Reborn even more skeptical. If years of being a hitman has amounted to anything, it would be that Reborn learned to be wary and take things with a grain of salt.

The week was quiet. Too quiet and it put Reborn on edge. It was as if the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for the right moment to wreak havoc.

Dammit, Reborn hadn't received a single hit request this whole week which was why he (not that he would ever admit it) was finally relieved when the tell-tale ding of a message received on his cellphone sounded.

 _Vongola Mansion. Nono's study. 0900 a.m._

Reborn smiled to himself. Time to blow off some steam.

"You've got to be shitting me, kora."

"You are late."

"By - 26 SECONDS, KORA!"

Reborn merely sipped his steaming cup of matcha tea that he just poured. Nono started providing fresh pots of tea in his study instead of coffee ever since he acquired a Japanese not-really daughter-in-law. Reborn wasn't much of aficionado of tea, but the Asian brews were more to his liking than the English ones. More subtle and earthy in flavor.

"I'm NOT working with him, kora."

"I feel indifferent," Reborn retorted, continuing to sip his tea unperturbed.

"Why you -"

"Colonello, please seat yourself. Don't start this meeting off with such a bitter note." Nono's words were that of someone speaking entreatingly but there was a sharp edge that left no room for argument.

Colonello was ,by nature, brash but even he in the end huffed and plopped himself on the couch across Reborn, leaving his rifle strapped to his back.

"May I remind you this office is a neutral ground. Not to mention, much of the items in this room are hundreds of years old and practically priceless."

Reluctantly Colonello slipped off the gun strap and set the gun on the table, eyeing Reborn as he did so.

"Now we can finally get this started," Nono began, smiling placatingly at the two rivals seated in front of him. "I need you to two to head a few men of mine and take out the Bandoni Famiglia."

"Bandoni Famiglia. As in the one headed by the young capo Demetrio?" questioned Colonello. He remembered the famiglia vaguely. A couple years ago, the previous head, a rambunctious fellow who despite his big talk actually led his famiglia down a quiet and undisruptive path, was murdered in an untimely fashion, leaving his only son, 12 at the time, to take over the family.

"Precisely. Though the title Capo may be one just for show, " Nono responded as he beckoned the two hitmen to approach the computer on his desk. Clearly displayed was what appeared to be a surveillance video of a group of suited men in a back alley. "These two men in the back, the one with spiked blonde hair and the older gray haired gentlemen, are - were - the left and right hands of the previous Bandoni and have now been passed on to Demetrio."

Reborn stared at the photo. He had seen the other men before. Not the Bandonis but the greasy haired men who's profiles were only visible. Oh. "And what are they doing Pidocchi Famiglia?"

"Pidocchi Famiglia?" Colonello scratched his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"It wouldn't,"replied Reborn. "They are a small famiglia. They fly under the radar these days, but several years ago they were accused of participating in human trafficking. There wasn't enough evidence for the accusations to stick so they went scotch free but the accusation was enough to tarnish their name so they've been maintaining a low profile. Not to mention, the Pidocchi are small and decided, by many, not worth the time or money to enact a full investigation." Colonello shot him a dirty look, probably because Reborn was showing off a bit, but Reborn paid no mind.

"Thanks Reborn. The three other men on the left are the Pidocchi storm, cloud, and mist guardians. I had Croquant do some more surveillance on the two famiglias, and they have met several times, but only once have both the heads been alone doesn't raise any suspicions, but upon further inspection, Croquant detected traces of mist flames on Demetrio as well as unnaturally glazed eyes. My assumption is," Nono closed the laptop, pulling out instead a photo of the Bandoni's Demetrio. "Demetrio is a puppet for the previous head's guardians. So I need you two to recover him and capture the guardians for further interrogation."

"I don't get why you need both of us. Sounds easy enough, kora."

"We need stealth. Other famiglias won't be happy upon hearing that a larger famiglia such as the Vongola is getting involved in the business of smaller ones. Unfortunately Croquant and Visconti, who I would have sent in your stead, are preoccupied in China, so I need a sharpshooter and someone known for their quick and quiet kills who I can rely on."

With his cards laid on the table, Nono gazed thoughtfully at the two hitmen in front of him as they contemplated the mission. Nono was no idiot. He knew these two men well having contracted them many times, but separately. They were like two pieces of flint. So similar, yet every time they came in contact, so disastrous but a definite force to be reckoned with. And Nono needed that kind of unstoppable power on his side.

"Fine," responded Colonello and Reborn simultaneously. They shot one another a glare before Colonello tacked on his trademark word to his response.

Nono smiled. So similar. "Thank you. You are both dismissed."

The heavy doors closed soundly behind the two hitmen as they left the office.

"I can't believe I got paired up with you of all people, kora. Just my luck," Colonello spoke as he kicked the carpeted floor with his military boots.

"Oh and who would you have preferred? Perhaps a certain rambunctious trigger-happy lady?" Reborn retorted, unable to stop the smirk on his face.

"As if! She ranks just below you on my list of people I'd rather kill myself than work with kora."

"So you can't work with her, but you can drive around with her?" Set the trap.

Colonello narrowed his eyes. "The hell you mean, kora?"

"She drove you to the mansion, no? Why else would she be waiting downstairs when she doesn't even have a meeting scheduled with the Nono?"

"How do you even know that, kora?"

"You didn't deny it." Not like it was all that difficult to deduce the pair arrived together. Given both Colonello's and Lal's pre-disposition to quarrel (The quarrels were really more like one-sided arguments. Lal always won.), the two were a parade on feet. Always making a spectacle of themselves, always loud enough to disrupt the dead.

"Yes!" Colonello threw up his hands in exasperation. "We just got back from a hit."

He took the bait.

"Together? I thought you'd rather die than work with her." Reborn questioned as he watched Colonello visibly get flustered as his skin darkened in pink.

"Orders! KORA!"

Almost there.

"You sure the baby didn't need his chaperon around to clean up his spills?"

"Oh I'll show you who needs the chaperon," growled Colonello as he aimed his rifle at the center between Reborn's eyes.

Without further warning, Colonello fired, the shot a deafening sound that echoed throughout the empty halls.

Reborn smiled deviously as he reached for Leon who readily transformed into a pistol in Reborn's hands.

He took the bait.

"I leave you alone for ten minutes and you already break out into a fight?"

"Sorry? Ouch, be careful will you?" whined Colonello as Lal not so nicely dabbed anti-septic onto a small cut on his face.

Lal continued as if she never heard Colonello's words of protest, moving onto another injury on his arm, blotting it with more anti-septic with the same haphazardness. "As if sorry will repair the entire east wing and compensate for the thousands of dollars of damage. And you can bet your sorry ass that it'll be coming out of your paycheck. And you, Reborn," Reborn looked away from petting Leon who let out a soft noise at the loss of contact. "Seriously, you two are like a pair of disagreeable children. And I can't stand children. Now show me your injuries Reborn."

"I don't know what your talking about."

"Stop trying to show off Reborn. You're not as invincible as you like to think you are," Lal retorted as she scanned over the hitman for an injuries. Noticing some signs of shredding on Reborn's right suit sleeve, she grabbed his forearm and it took a bit of effort on Reborn's part not to wince at the feeling of fabric grazing his raw skin, but the effort went unnoticed by Lal who gave a look that exuded 'I told you so'.

"Seriously, I should start paying a fee for all the times I have to patch you up," rambled Lal. Honestly, the only reprieve Lal ever got from was when one of them was gone on a hit, but even then, she used that time to stock up on medical supplies for the two idiots.

"We never ask you to help us, Lal," replied Colonello who was using an ice pack to nurse his swollen cheek.

Lal nodded as she studiously rolled up Reborn's sleeve. "No, but you guys would be dead if it wasn't for me.

Besides, I make a lot of money off of bets on you two and I can't lose my piggy banks."

Colonello 'tsk-ed' in response while Lal continued disinfecting Reborn's arm wound as Reborn entertained himself by playing with Leon on his free hand. After finishing one side, Lal flipped his arm so that the palm was face up to clean the inside of the arm, but before resuming her ministrations she stopped and quickly slapped her hand on Reborn's wrist which made an audible sound.

Reborn looked at Lal, cocking an eyebrow, confused as to why she stopped, and was majorly off put by the sly smile on her face. That was not normal. He searched his arm, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary except an untouched patch of raw skin and Lal's hand gripping his wrist.

Lal's smile only widened upon seeing Reborn's perplexed expression. Reborn got the distinct feeling that he would not like the reason behind he smile.

"Hey, Colonello," said Lal who continued to maintain eye contact with Reborn. She was too happy for his liking.

"What?" Colonello questioned absentmindedly. Obviously boredom was setting because he was in the process of assembling and reassembling his gun.

"I think you owe me 500 after all." The glee was thinly veiled in her voice.

The thought of losing even more money snapped Colonello to attention. He promptly discarded his gun in favor of crawling over to the smirking Lal and perplexed Reborn. When he settled in a crouching position, Lal dramatically lifted her hand of Reborn's arm like curtains opening up for a show.

And what a show it was.

Reborn couldn't believe his eyes. After over 20 years, he had given up, but blatantly in view on his forearm is something Reborn thought he would never see.

Slowly and shakily, a purple line snaked on his arm before stopping a few seconds later to resume immediately beneath the sketch.

The trio and the rest of the world seemed to hold its breath at that moment until the drawing stopped. The bomb Reborn was waiting for.

A purple fish. 'Tuna' written below.

"Oh shit, kora."

Reborn knew it. Always be wary of sevens.

A/N:

Sorry I took so long to update, but I got overwhelmed by the response! Thank you for all the follows, favs, and comments which I will get around to replying soon.

Comment and critiques are welcomed, especially if you spot any grammatical errors.


	4. Chapter 4 (Tsuna)

(Idk what happened the first time I uploaded it, but here is the correct chapter!)

xxxxxxx

It has been almost a month. Twenty-four days to be precise since Tsuna first drew a tuna fish on his arm and he finds this interesting. No, the fish isn't what's interesting, though Tsuna has been practicing his fish drawing skills. He now adds scales to his simple oval and triangle tuna fish. "It adds some flair," Mama said to him. The compliment made Tsuna glow with pride so he's been practicing on numerous pieces of paper his tuna drawing. So much so that his purple marker died out and immediately, Tsuna was whisked away by Mama to the market where there was a sale for lion themed markers so Tsuna and Mama bought several orange ones that matched Natsu.

No! The more appropriate color choice for a tuna fish wasn't what Tsuna found interesting. The fact that Tsuna remembered the exact number of days is interesting.

Tsuna is what his preschool teacher calls an "airhead." He finds it hard to focus in class. His mind wanders. It takes several calls of his name to grab his attention and even when he isn't daydreaming, nothing sticks because nothing that the teacher says processes in Tsuna's head. Tsuna tries. He honestly makes an effort but his teacher writes on the board too much and does too much one-on-one reading. And Tsuna doesn't understand any of it! He can't remember the characters. His teacher always has to correct him on his pronunciation. His classmates laugh at him because of it. So he daydreams. Of days when his father returns home. Of when his mother's smile threatens to take over her face. Of when he won't be laughed at in class. Of when his soulmmate writes back to him.

xxxxxxx

It's been one month and thirty days since Tsuna drew a tuna fish and signed "Tuna" on his right arm. Since then Tsuna has grown a few inches taller and had to buy some new clothes and shoes. There have been no signs of his father except for a phone call to wish his "little Tuna fish" a happy birthday even though Tsuna's birthday isn't months in the future. Tsuna's tuna drawing grew scales and several markers have been added to the trash bin. Since then Tsuna has been rocked to bed with his Mama petting his fluffy hair and whispering that he is loved: by his Mama, his Papa, Natsu, and someone out there who loves him enough to draw on their skin just for him.

But if this "someone" loves him, why do they not reply to him? Why do they not write anything else to him? Tsuna never sees the process of the black lines spreading on his skin, but without fail it shows up every day. But his soulmates never writes anything else besides the lines. Tsuna knows he should be reassured by the constant that is the black lines because he _has_ a soulmate. But he isn't. Somewhere, deep down, Tsuna just _knows_ that the markings are not meant for him. They are personal to his soulmate and Tsuna feels like he stumbled onto someone's secret. The thought that his soulmmate isn't acknowledging him hurts but Tsuna is persistent and tenacious. He will not give. Every day he will continue to draw his tuna, until one day, his soulmate's markings are directed to him.

Tsuna lifts his marker from his skin, dusts the drawing with a little bit of baby powder, before saying goodnight to his Mama and turning off the light.

Two months and still counting.

xxxxxxx

A/N:

Omigosh I'm so sorry this chapter probably has a lot of grammatical errors but I just wrote this on the plane and wanted to publish it before I had to catch my connecting flight.

A few things on some of my headcanons for Tsuna:

He is a lefty. Why? Because lefties are amazing 3 Where are my fellow lefties?!

(Righties and ambidextrous ppl are pretty cool too)

Second, I've always thought Tsuna had some sort of learning disability. He's a hard-worker at heart so there must be something acting as an obstacle so he can't show his full potential. I'm sorry, I don't personally have a learning disability and had to learn about it via the interweb so if I have at all mis-characterized dyslexia in this case, PLEASE let me know.

Finally, many people are commenting how cute this all is but I've got Tsuna and Reborn going through some tough times (with interspersed cuteness) before the happy ending so please bear with me!

As always thank you for the comments and kudos! Comments and critiques are welcome as always so until next time 3


	5. Chapter 5 (Reborn)

Ages

Reborn - 21

Lal Mirch - 25

Colonello - 19

Warning: mentions of sexual activity and violence

xxxxxxx

"Fancy meeting you here."

Lal gracefully slides into the vacant bar seat next to Reborn who is nursing his fourth whiskey. It's been a long night for him, so no one can fault him for seeking the numbing refuge of alcohol.

The bar itself is rather empty. There are only three other patrons still around. The band for the night left hours ago leaving only the muted snoring of a man passed on in a booth and the off and on pouring of alcohol on tap. It is rather baffling - in a business perspective - as to why the bar was even open at this hour. It can't be profitable. Then again Reborn isn't complaining. That is why Reborn likes this bar. Perfect for solitary nights after a late night hit. Emphasis on _solitary._

Reborn glares at Lal who smugly orders another round for her and Reborn.

 _"_ What are you doing?" questions (accuses) Reborn.

"This bar fits you to a T, Reborn," Lal muses, speaking over Reborn who bristles at being ignored. "Not surprising I'd find you here. Dimly lit for an aura of mystery, but once the lights are on full blast, every thing is a lot more clear cut than it may seem at first. Just a standard bar."

Reborn doesn't acknowledge Lal's cryptic analogy, preferring to direct his attention to his drink and long for his peace and quiet. He swirls the ice cubes in his empty shot glass, the tinkling of the movement amplified in the barren room.

Several minutes pass without another word exchanged between the two, during which the bar tender drops off two more drinks that Reborn gratefully swaps out for his empty one.

Eventually Lal's incessant gaze and another round of alcohol (Who is paying for this? At this point Reborn doesn't know and doesn't care.) wears down Reborn's already tired nerves. He sighs.

"Why are you here?"

Lal smirks proudly at her small victory before she reigns in her expression. She means business now.

"Why haven't you communicated with your soulmate?"

Reborn startles minutely at the question. No one should know. He hasn't said a word since his soulmmate's writing first manifested on his skin.

"What did I tell you about your false pretense of mystery? Once someone spends enough time around you, which I regrettably have -" Reborn kicks her bar stool. "-you are pretty easy to read. You should be happy by the monumental discovery that an idiot like you had a soul mate after all, but you've been nothing but mopey and miserable these two months."

"I don't mope," Reborn mumbles.

"Whatever inflates your ego," replies Lal, waving a hand dismissively at Reborn. "But that doesn't dismiss the fact that you've been nothing but miserable and short-tempered. You would've shot out Colonello's leg last week if I hadn't interfered, and you two _never_ go past superficial wounds."

Reborn sneers at the unbidden memory bubbling up. "He is a nosy brat."

"Yes, but a well-intentioned one. You know he was just trying to distract you from whatever horrible mood you entrenched yourself in," Lal retorts, effectively shutting Reborn up.

The pair return to their drinks as silence envelops them.

Once again, Reborn is the one to break the quiet air. Just what did Lal order for him. He wouldn't put it past her for discreetly ordering something insanely strong enough to push him over his tolerance level, yet Reborn still finds his lips moving not quite under his will.

"They're a child." Reborn doesn't even need to explicitly name who "they" is for Lal to catch on.

"So is Colonello. Maybe not by the legal defintion or physically," Lal drifts off.

It takes all of his Reborn's willpower to refrain himself from slamming his head repeatedly into the bar. "God dammit, Lal. I don't need to know these details." Colonello is an immature 19 year old boy easily prone to quarrels in Reborn's eyes, and Reborn does _not_ need any unnecessary information that may suggest more mature characteristics.

Lal just smiles neutrally, as if she didn't just creep out Reborn to his very core and continues, "Mentally though is another story. Which is why I haven't made my move-"

"Lal!" interjects Reborn, scandalized by the thought. The bar table is looking more attractive by the second.

"-to sponsor him for a promotion." Lal continues, her voice completely gleeful and sadistic and taunting. "What were _you_ thinking, Reborn?"

Reborn actually slams his head into the table this time, mentally berating himself for getting caught up, but this is Lal and she takes to much pleasure from watching Reborn writhe in disgust and discomfort.

"This is all your fault," Reborn mumbles muffedly into the bar as he tries not to cringe while thinking about how many drunkards must have emptied their stomachs on the exact table Reborn's face is resting on.

"Is it really? Or perhaps your mind is just in the gutter?"

Reborn mutters a noise of protest but Lal pays no heed.

"This is exactly my point, Reborn. You are thinking much too far ahead. _Ages_ ahead. You probably feel like a creeper at the moment, but no one is telling you two to get down and dirty right now."

Lal stops to shoot a deadly glare at Reborn.

"And that better not happen until they are _at_

 _least_ legal age. I know relationships aren't your thing but there are steps beyond flirting and sex. Such as getting to know a person." Lal pauses deliberately and shoots Reborn a look, for what, Reborn isn't sure. He isn't one to deny his flirtatious nature. Hell, that's how Lal and he met in the first place and Reborn quickly learned that he barked up the wrong tree. So, what? But before Reborn can further analyze, Lal continues on.

"You are also making so many assumptions already. You don't even know what kind of soulmate bond yours is. Maybe this soulmmate relationship will just turn out as a platonic one instead of a romantic one. Regardless just give the kid a chance. Talk or write for god's sake. The world won't end if you have a simple chat. I bet all my winnings off you and Colonello that the child is doing their best to get through to you."

Reborn winces, his hand immediately straying to his right forearm so covered in markings that one would think he had a tattoo sleeve.

Lal notices the movement and her face contorts to one of sadness and ... _empathy._

Reborn picks up on the surprising feeling and raises a questioning eyebrow. In response, Lal begins.

"As you know Colonello and I have a five year age gap. I was one of those 'late-bloomers' - a stupid concept, by the way, because who is society to decide what is and isn't an acceptable age gap between soulmates - who didn't receive my first soulmmate markings until I was nine. I was ecstatic upon learning I wasn't alone so Colonello and I conversed frequently. When he turned 13, he confessed his desire to join the army - which I didn't find surprising given that his parents both met during their service. Colonello was so motivated even at so young. He was a child prodigy with the rifle. If anything I was excited at the prospect of sharing the same line of work, but never did I think it would pose a threat to our relationship.

I was placed temporarily as an instructor for new recruits while they searched for a more permanent one. To prepare, I looked over their profiles before training began. And guess what? Colonello's profile was smack dab at the top. Even now I wonder if it was all just a freak coincidence with the number of famiglias all out there, the possibility of Colonello and I both joining the elite forces was slim to none. In hindsight I should have known Colonello wouldn't settle for any force than the best. But I didn't and there it was, his profile on my desk. "

Lal's voice turns fond and her smile more relaxed.

"Sixteen - almost seventeen - and still wearing his stupid camoflauge bandana and his cheeky grin. Which was already a point against him because who smiles when applying for a position in Italy's special forces? Surely doesn't mimic the rough and tough attitude one would expect.

Then I realized how detrimental this freak coincidence and our relationship would be to Colonello. Me, his soulmate _and_ his instructor in the COMSUBIN.

Guaranteed, Colonello would already be looked down just for his young age. So if, on top of that, people knew we were soulmates, Colonello would be at such a disadvantage. They woud think he just used his connections to get into the COMSUBIN. Maybe we could've just hid our relationship, but we both know Colonello, and discreet is a far cry from being a descriptor for him. If it came to be known later that we are soulmates, people would only attribute his inevitably fast climb in the ranks to our relationship.

I wasn't going to forfeit my position as instructor. Orders are orders. Besides, Colonello definitely wouldn't have approved me putting him above my job even if I had considered that option. And I sure as hell wasn't about to kick out Colonello. Not for how hard he worked to get recruited. So I did what I thought best. I stopped talking to him. Emails, texts, phone calls, and even messages on my arms. I wasn't planning the silence to be pernanent I just . . . never placed an ending date.

You couldn't imagine his face when I showed a couple weeks later to train him. Hurt. Betrayal. But I was stubborn. I interacted with him purely in the way an instructor and their student should. Colonello was persistent at first, trying to get me alone to talk, but when that didn't work, he wrote constantly, so much that I was finally grateful for the long sleeves of the COMSUBIN uniforms. I was so close to caving several times but eventually the writing stopped. I was in a way relieved by the break in the incessant writing, but at the same time, the absence left me feeling horrible and hollow.

Colonello rose in the ranks quickly. Finally after speeding through the rigorous training in two years, he officially joined COMSUBIN as a fighter. He even became the go-to-man whenever a mission required a sharpshooter. He made a name and reputation for himself all on his own. Then he approached me.

One day, Colonello came to my office and picked apart my entire ruse. He knew. Reborn, he _knew._ The entire time. Yet he stayed silent and played along two painfully long years later. I was scolded. Twenty-four years old, receiving a lecture from someone who wasn't even legally an adult. But I came to understand. I underestimated Colonello and our relationship. I did what _I_ thought was best for Colonello and myself. But that's not how relationships work. There needs to be discussion and coming to mutual agreements.

So Reborn," Lal stares steely-eyed at Reborn, a look typically reserved for her targets, and he is reminded that the person in front of him is in one of Italy's toughest forces for a reason. "while you may say or think you will be completely fine without your soulmate, think that 'this is for the best' , there are two sides to a relationship, and you deciding for them without even having the decency to explain your situation or making an effort to get to know them is a coward's move. If I come to find out that you are _still_ shutting your soulmate out when I return from China, you'll be six feet under ground and cursing your stubborn idiotic self for not only messing up your life but also someone else's."

Lal pushes herself away from the bar and heads to the bar exit, but not before sending Reborn a glare that shoots down any arguments that her threat is an empty one.

The door shuts behind her, leaving Reborn who visibly sags into his seat.

This is too much. All of this is too much right now. Partially inebriated and with a headache to boot, Reborn did not plan for his night out to end the way it did.

But Reborn can feel himself caving in to Lal. It's been a long twenty-one years for him. Even if he is known as "The World's Number One Hitman," he is human too. He longs for a connection. Longs to be completed.

Frustrated, Reborn scrubs at his face, eyes shutting reflexively. But as his eyelids close, images and memories bloom vividly in the darkness. _Blood, death, pain, and loss. So much loss._

Reborn winces.

 _Garbled screams cut off by a sharp crack of the neck. Pleas of mercy ended by a single shot in the head._

 _Deathdeathdeathdeathdeath._

 _'Tell my husband I love him.'_

CRASH

Reborn jumps out of his seat, his pupils blown out wide, his stance defensive, and his empty shot glass now shards on the floor. Slapping down a handful of bills that is most likely too much for a few rounds of alcohol, Reborn dashes outside into the chilly night, directionless and uncaring.

He can't give in. He _won't_ give in.

Because... Reborn clutches at his own drawings as he sprints down the barren streets.

He can't save them all.

xxxxxxx

A/N:

Reborn probably seems a bit OOC in these chapters, but bear in mind that he's still young and still isn't an Arcobaleno. Anyways, I hope this chapter provided some insight to Reborn's actions. As always thanks for the lovely reviews. Comments and critiques are welcome and if you want to talk more or wish to enjoy multi-fandom stuff, you can always stop by my tumblr: xKeshire.

Thank you 3


End file.
